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Bug-Stompers of the 21st Century
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-634-3
Genre: Science Fiction/Fiction/Adventure
eBook Length: 184 Pages
Published: January 2009

From inside the flap

A horrifying glimpse into the not-too-distant future!

Spawned by the effects of Global Warming, those annoying household pests of old have been replaced by an infinitely more vicious species of hybrid insect and froth-spewing rodent…mutated bug and rat swarms which actually seek out and hunger for human flesh!

Thus, the 21st Century exterminator was born…equipped with a ‘can-kill’ attitude, state-of-the art equipment and bug-melting pesticides, these modern-day pest assassins risk both life and limb while facing down the likes of Jamaican Cannibal Roaches, Skin-bore Ants, porcupine mantises and the ever-dreaded, ultra-poisonous Dual-Fanged Daddy Long-Legs!

Read in spine-tingling anticipation as six of the planet’s most noted pest control specialists face down the newest and greatest threat of all!

Find out which of these stalwart adventurers will survive and who will merely join the mutilated ranks of the mutant-bug buffet!

So don’t bother checking your personal space for creepy, crawly, multi-legged intruders…just leave those brittle nerves behind and give a shout out for the brave men and women who so proudly profess to be the ‘BUG STOMPERS OF THE 21St CENTURY!’

Bug-Stompers of the 21st Century (Excerpt)


Run Like Hell…The Prequel

Unreal…surreal…inconceivable…far-fetched. Pick a clich‚, any clich‚…but facts are facts, even in the light of complete, unabashed insanity. How can something that damn big…bulky as a tractor-trailer with legs no less…possibly see fit to pursue little old insignificant me cross-country like a starved wolf sniffing out a cornered rabbit? Talk about your ’if it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all’ scenario, this shit is utterly ridiculous. Not that I had a slew of choices at the time, but I picked this damn sewer drain mainly for its limited size, thus what I considered a safe escape route-out of sight, out of scent…or so I thought. As usual, it never pays to think.

Ahhh, but I shouldn’t be the least bit surprised…it isn’t as if this latest in a series of bad breaks transpired all at once. Pondering on it, the entire trek’s been a real pisser. Why should it switch gears just because I’m above ground instead of that flaming pit that’s the source of the whole nightmarish shebang?

Worst of all, we managed to stroll right into a textbook booby-trap from the word go, and they call humans the smartest species. Well, such egotistical, cock-sure theories are made to be broken…sometimes it’s just a matter of time…and really, really bad timing (laughs). Most intelligent my ass…more like lambs to the proverbial slaughter, one and all. All our so-called experience and job-related knowledge meant exactly squat, as did the modern techno-pesticide weapons that were supposed to save our collective rear-ends if faced with such a freaky scenario. Might as well have been fighting ’em off with a can of Raid…or maybe chunked a box of Combat baits into the hive for all the good Pretty Boy Floyd’s experimental armory toys did us.

The drain reeks of excrement, ammonia, mildew. Then again, fighting off my gag reflex is definitely a minor annoyance at the moment. I get the feeling this whole sick-fuck scenario is gonna conclude resembling one of those classic Hollywood sci-fi bug flicks, only with no happy ending in sight, no sir. The planet as a whole will be these ugly SOB’s oyster. A nesting to end all nestings, so to speak. Today, New Horizons sub-division…tomorrow, the World! Like I said…what a pisser.

Lord, it’s hard to believe such an abomination really exists. If I hadn’t seen it, seem them, with my own eyes. One thing’s for damned certain, no matter what the outcome-the pest control business is in for one major league overhaul. The days of the one percent pesticide, ninety-nine percent water mix in the old B&G have gone the way of the cordless phone and cable TV.

Shit…running out of gas big-time-no wonder…legs feel like they’ve been shoved through a wood chipper. Main thing is not to dwell on it. Have to maintain focus here. Just…keep on trucking…rockin’ and rollin’…take it one step…or limp…at a time ’til I reach pay-dirt-wherever the hell that might be. Think of the others…how they…how they perished as honorably as one can while fighting a foe that simply refuses to die. Think…think of Beth. Yeah, that’s it. If I’m roughly half the trooper that sweet Bethy was, I’ll find a way. She sure as hell would’ve.

Lungs on the verge of imploding-heartbeat pounding on my chest cavity like a jackhammer…all I can think about is how good it would feel just to lay down and sleep for a year or three. Not sure of the distance stretched between us, but I sure as hell can’t allow that hungry bitch to get within pinching distance in case I happen to stumble along the way. Moreover, I’ve got a sinking feeling the two of us ain’t alone in or outside this here intestinal tin-can. With that in mind, a half- million ravenous storm-troopers hot on one’s heels has a way of bringing out that extra gear you never knew you possessed. That and the mental image of being buried alive by their masses as they chew you into meatball puree. All the way to the bone marrow, baby. I’ve seen what those merciless little bastards can do to the human body in a relatively short span of time. Seen it up close and waaaay too personal in the past half-hour, in fact. Wish like hell I could erase the memory, but that ain’t likely in this or any other lifetime. To quote the obvious, it wasn’t at all pleasant nor pretty. Soooo, just keep the mind focused and maintain the stamina level. Can’t be more than another fifty yards or so, then I’ll poke my head topside and search out an authority figure of some kind-for whatever good that’ll do. Hate to bring it up, much less dwell on it, but a few million lives just might hang in the balance depending on how quick I can produce a suitable warning. Shit, if they only knew their very futures lay in the hands of a limping, beaten-down, near-psychotic pest control tech from East Virginia, I get the feeling the majority would be bending down to kiss their own butt-cheeks sayonara right about now. If so, I can only pray I’ve got enough gas left in the motivational tank to make ’em regret such negative thinking. Yeah, that’s it…something to keep my mind occupied even as the body falls apart at the seams…pray to a higher power that this ain’t the end after all. Pray and keep moving…yep-that’s the plan-just concentrate, keep on truckin’, and don’t…stop… praying…